#i've decided to do the prompts that spark joy/i have time for

[hephaestiions]

day 2 for @hprecfest — a fic rated G

on the turning away by @blamebrampton (blamebrampton) (G, 25.7k, 2014)

It's one thing to be good at not making a besotted fool of yourself over a man when he's busy being the most famous wizard in the world and you're tucked away quietly in Wiltshire. It's quite another when you have to see him every morning.

blamebrampton's oeuvre features some excellent G-rated fic (see also: welcoming voice & marginal notes) but i chose turning away for this prompt because it has the slow-pulled, cosy-stretched wintery vibe perfect for december.

a prank goes wrong, and draco, now a potioneer in salisbury, must report daily to deputy head-auror harry potter for a few weeks to satisfy expectations that he is no longer given to tendencies putting wizarding peace in jeopardy. features harry, who hasn't grown out of his own tendencies to risk personal safety for the greater good, draco, who for lack of better phrasing, did a great deal of growing up, much tea drinking & a big-hearted young auror who is a gloriously enjoyable oc.

i loved this take on draco— older, quieter but still sharp and distinct. the dynamic between harry and draco builds slowly until the crescendo is upon you, entirely believable with a satisfying thrum of surprise. at 25k, i hesitate to class it a slow-burn— it's more of an even simmer, glow of a hearth, gently rising dough.

h/d fic & fandom sees an immensely corrugated post-war terrain & most writers bring their own spin on the quality of post-canon atmosphere. in brampton's works, turning away especially, these contours are rendered with care and comfort: politically imperfect without being bleak, suffused with fresh blood and a striving towards better living without being utopian. redemption & reckoning are fostered through painstaking, mundane efforts; the shape of hope emerges as the slow build of dawn into day. it makes for work that's strikingly mature yet warm and comforting, slow breeze in the afternoon.

i read this for the first time about when it posted, a decade ago now, and returning to it was a delightful trip. a brilliant feel-good bedtime/holidays read, check it out & show some love!

[xavieremix]

okay so the tags on that last post got me feeling those melon collies so i'm just gonna. tagdump in here. slightly sensitive topics? so uh. scroll down (or press J to jump to next post). or read my thoughts like the morning paper. sorry. cheers.

[artist-ellen]

Historical mermay Prompt 8: Meiji Era -> Aztec Mermaid (Tlanchana)

So the last prompt for Historical Mermay was supposed to be Meiji era but.... last year there was a historical Japanese mermaid and a late Victorian mermaid so.... I decided to switch this one out with a different historical mermaid that had been on my list.

Aztec mythology has a mermaid-like figure, which is very exciting for me, but there's a full backstory so strap in for some lore. The origin for Tlanchana isn't Aztec at all, but instead originates from an Otomi goddess called Acpaxapo. Acpaxapo is a benevolent lake goddess who is half woman, half water-serpent. When she was adopted by the Aztecs her aspect evolved to Tlanchana, a much more mysterious and dangerous deity who would drown men with her tail.

I had hoped to make some more references to the original Otomi influence in my illustration but I was having a devil of a time looking for specifically Otomi artifacts (Otomi is technically a collection of languages and is an exonym for the peoples who speak Otomi languages ((if I've even understood what I 'm reading correctly))...and English websites barely cover the big 3) so I eventually pivoted, since I haven't done any siren-like mermaids for this challenge yet and was interested in doing something a little moodier. A description of Tlanchana described her as wearing only jewels and that sparked a lot of creative joy. And looking at all the jade ornaments in pre-colonial jewelry.... I dove right in. I kept a very serpent-like design for her tail, and made all her ornaments in jade... a series of necklaces, her nose jewelry (which I took some creative liberty with after looking at goddess depictions), and ear plugs. I wouldn't say she is accurate, there's a lot of artistic license salt in this stew... but I think she turned out pretty cool.

(And if you just had the thought that this is the most i have written in a description for ages... it's because this one had... new? research. Example: I've drawn redesigns with Ottoman fashion 3+ times, I don't have much new to say for the Ottoman mermaid. I've talked and researched a lot less on Aztec mythology so I had things to say.)

I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: instagram, tiktok or check out my coloring book available now \ („• ֊ •„) /

https://linktr.ee/ellen.artistic

[jmbringitonworld]

Frans Week 2025 - Day 1 - Stars

After having to miss out on Frans Week for the past two years because my dad was dying/dead, I wanted to finally try my hand at it again. Unfortunately, the day after finishing my second prompt, a horrible cold struck me down like one of Zeus's lightning bolts, and I've been sick ever since. I'm still sick! It sucks! At least I managed to write out the two most important days for me. But I'm gutted that I couldn't get more out in time.

The rest of the days will be written eventually, though they'll be too late for Frans Week. I plan to include them in my ongoing fic, A Good Father. It's my own AU where Asgore adopts and raises baby Frisk in the Underground. Both of the prompts I managed to write in time are set in this AU. In this one, Day 1- Stars, both Sans and Frisk are children (11 and 6 respectively).

Thanks to @fransweek for hosting this event. I look forward to it every year!

_____________________________________

Sans didn’t think he was as fun to be around as his little brother.

Papyrus was far more entertaining and far more attentive than Sans could ever be, in the eleven-year-old skeleton monster’s expert opinion. Whenever the young Gaster brothers and Dreemurr daughter had gotten together, it was always Papyrus who had taken charge and decided what they would do for the day - even if that was usually puzzle planning and battle strategising.

However, today Papyrus wasn’t with them. He had very important business to take care of. Namely, chasing after old man Gerson with Undyne, to observe his fighting style (and to make sure that Undyne didn’t beat up too many “bad guys”).

Sans still wasn’t all that keen on letting Undyne into their small group of friends. And he still didn’t trust the preteen fish monster - she was far too hot-tempered and violent for his liking.

But it wasn’t up to him to decide who his brother wanted to hang out with. Papyrus was eight years old now, and was getting more independent and confident by the day. He didn’t need his big brother anymore - a fact that filled Sans with both pride, and a sad sort of wistfulness that made him feel older than he actually was.

At least Frisk still preferred to stick to his side over anyone else’s (besides her father, of course, but parents didn’t count). Sans could freely admit that their friendship was something he’d come to deeply cherish over the years they’d known each other, especially as she got old enough to play with the skeleton brothers and have actual conversations with them.

Sans especially appreciated how good of a listener Frisk was. He felt like he could tell his little human friend anything, and she wouldn’t judge him. Granted, at six years old she didn’t always understand everything he was talking about, and she couldn’t offer him the most insightful advice, or give particularly useful input. But something about her made Sans want to open up to her and share his thoughts with her, in a way he didn’t even do with either his brother or his father.

Which was why on this day, when it was just the two of them, he decided to take his best friend to his favourite place in the entire Underground.

_____

Frisk looked around the cavernous room with wide eyes, awe shining on her face as brightly as the glittery rocks on the ceiling.

She let go of Sans’s hand and took several steps forward, before spinning in a slow circle, taking in the entire room with childish wonder.

Sans gazed at her with soft eye sockets and an even softer smile. Fondness curled in his Soul like a contented cat.

“this is the wishing room,” he informed his awestruck little buddy.

Frisk turned to him with a beaming smile, sparks of joy lighting up her eyes.

“Wowie! This is so cool!” she squealed, bouncing on her toes the way Papyrus did when he was particularly excited.

Sans grinned at her. “so you like this place, huh?”

Frisk nodded her head so vigorously, Sans was half-afraid it might fall off - Pap’s skull sometimes did, though he figured that might just be a skeleton thing.

“I love it!” Frisk gushed. “Daddy doesn’t like taking me to Waterfall, ‘cause he’s scared I might get sick ‘cause it’s so wet. But I think it’s so pretty! I wish I could see more of it.”

Sans really wanted to offer to take Frisk to explore more of Waterfall. But he didn’t want Mr. Dreemurr to get mad at him - or worse, his father (his father’s lectures were the worst!). Sans was also reluctant to potentially endanger his best friend’s health.

But still… he really wanted to see that smile on her face again.

“hey, tell ya what, kid,” he leaned in with a conspiratorial wink. “how’s about i take you to visit some of the drier places in waterfall? i know plenty of really cool spots like this room.”

Frisk’s smile got even bigger, if that were possible. “Really?! Really really?!”

Sans wink at her again, feeling smug satisfaction bubble up within him. “really. and, uh,” his grin dropped a little, as he gave his friend a nervous look. “let’s not tell anyone about this, ‘kay? don’t want our dads knowin’. they might ground us.” He couldn’t help the shiver going down his spine at the thought.

Frisk let out a dramatic gasp, and gave him a nod. “‘Kay! It’ll be our secret.”

“yup. our own little best buddies secret,” Sans agreed.

It felt weird to Sans to have Frisk purposely keep secrets, especially from her father.

But sharing something special, just between the two of them, gave him a ticklish feeling in his Soul.

It made him feel special.

Besides, they weren’t hurting anyone or anything like that. They were just having fun and going on super secret adventures together, as young children should do.

More than anything, Sans believed that making his friend happy was worth possibly getting in trouble for.

_____

The next time the two friends visited the Wishing Room together, Sans brought along his telescope.

After setting it up and looking through it to make sure it still worked fine, he showed Frisk how to use it.

“Wowie!” she gasped. “The rocks look even prettier now!”

Sans chuckled. “yup, i think so too.” He gave his telescope a fond pat. “my dad gave me this thing. said it used to be his.”

That made Frisk tear her gaze away from the glittering rocks, and turn to give Sans a surprised look. “Really? I didn’t know your daddy liked looking at pretty rocks too.”

Sans shrugged his shoulders. “dunno if he does, actually.” Frisk tilted her head to the side, a cute gesture that was all hers, so Sans clarified, “dad told me he used to look through this telescope to see the stars better. ya know, back when monsters lived on the surface.”

The curious look Frisk gave him encouraged Sans to keep talking.

“see, dad loves stars. real stars. he says they’re brighter an’ prettier than anything else in the whole sky.” His voice lowered as he looked off to the side, gaze distant and unfocused. “when i was really little, and dad wasn’t as busy with work, he used to tell me all about the night sky. he taught me the names of all the different stars and constellations he knew of - he even drew them for me! he also taught me ‘bout all the other planets, and other galaxies, and black holes and supernovas and stuff!”

Frisk was quiet, as she observed the excited, yet sad look of longing on her best friend’s face. She wished that she could send comforting magic to his Soul, the way her father could. The way monsters could, yet humans could not.

She understood all too well the painful desire for something wonderful that was forever out of your reach.

“That sounds neato,” she told him softly.

Sans’s smile widened, not quite reaching his eyelights. “yeah. it sure does, huh.”

Frisk was quiet again, giving him a kind, sympathetic look.

Sans didn’t like the sad pity in her eyes, or the sombre tone the conversation had taken. He shook himself. This was supposed to be a fun time with his best friend!

“hey, ya wanna know something cool?” When Frisk eagerly nodded her head at his question, Sans leaned closer to her, as if sharing some new secret. “a long time ago, monsters would whisper their wishes to the stars in the sky. they believed that if you hoped with all your heart, your wish would come true.”

Frisk’s face lit up. “Oh golly, that is cool!”

Sans grinned at her reaction, happy to have successfully managed to dispel the previous gloomy atmosphere. “yeah, ain’t it?”

Then Sans let out a sigh, “‘course, we can’t do that no more. now, all we have are these sparkling stones on the ceiling…”

At that, Frisk’s face fell, her lower lip jutting out despondently.

Sans rushed to console her, internally kicking himself for making her sad again, right when he’d managed to cheer her up.

“but hey! that hasn’t stopped us from making wishes! everyone believes that if we keep wishin’ hard enough, surely all our wishes’ll come true.”

Frisk’s expression brightened. “Right! They will! Thousands of people wishing together can’t be wrong!”

Sans knew that was a naive thought. And yet, a small, childish part of him wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that wishes could come true.

Then, Frisk turned to Sans with an earnest look of curiosity on her face. “Hey Sans? You ever made a wish before?”

The young skeleton monster was taken aback by the question.

He blinked, then averted his gaze sheepishly. “well… maybe. when i was a baby bone.”

Frisk excitedly tugged on his arm. “Ooh! What was it?” When Sans hesitated, Frisk tugged harder. “C’mon! Tell me! Pleeeeease? Pretty pleeeeeease?”

Sans’s Soul squirmed at his best friend’s pleading whine. He felt helpless in the face of her expectation. It was so hard to deny her anything when she was so determined. In the end, all he could do was let out a resigned sigh. He really was no match for Frisk.

“fiiine. i’ll tell ya.” He tried very hard to keep the pout out of his voice and off his skull.

Frisk’s fingers wrapped tighter around his arm. It almost felt like they were wrapping around his Soul, which was a silly thought. Sans couldn’t bring himself to mind.

He lowered his voice to a whisper, despite the two of them being the only ones in the room, causing Frisk to lean in even closer to him. He could feel her breath brush against his bones. It was an odd, but not unpleasant sensation.

“i wished that i could see the real stars someday…”

Frisk was quiet as a look of contemplation came over her face.

Finally, after a few moments of deep consideration for a six-year-old, Frisk turned her gaze up to the ceiling - to the glimmering rocks serving as proxy stars. When she spoke, her voice was just as hushed as Sans’s had been.

“Then I wish that I could see the real stars with you someday.”

Sans felt his Soul give a jolt.

Faint heat spread across his cheekbones, as he failed to keep his smile off his face. He scratched at his cervical vertebrae in an embarrassed gesture.

“heh. that’s a great wish, frisk.”

The human giggled, and preened under her best friend’s praise.

Sans hadn’t realised just how reflective Frisk’s eyes were. They were so clear that the light of the sparkling stones on the ceiling shone brightly within their depths.

Frisk turned her star-filled eyes to him.

“One day, our wishes will come true,” she insisted, with such determination, that Sans almost believed that the human could bend reality to her very will to make them come true.

The young skeleton monster let hope fill his Soul, despite his better judgement.

“if you say so, buddy.” Sans smiled, looking every bit an eleven-year-old child. “then i’ll look forward to seein’ if the stars are just as bright and beautiful as dad says they are.”

Frisk gave him a considering look, before her lips curled into a cheeky grin.

“I bet your eyelights are even brighter and prettier than the stars.”

Sans made a choking noise. Heat filled his face and his Soul. “w-w-what?! c-cut it out! you’re embarrassin’ me…”

Frisk erupted into giggles, loud and joyous, looking entirely too pleased with herself. The sound filled the cavernous room, echoing off the walls. Sans could practically feel her laughter reverberating in his bones and resonating in his Soul.

He dragged his hood low over his skull, trying to hide his face in the darkness of his hoodie.

Sans knew that he really was no match for Frisk.

[darkkitty1208]

on fic writing and fandom: where am i going forward?

So. It's a bloody dull Friday and I'm writing this post--have been meaning to, for a while--because I can't stop thinking about it. It's just a few (a lot, actually) thoughts I've had in my mind the past few days that I've decided to spill into a single post, which turned out far longer than it needed to be, but nothing too important. Under the cut.

I've been a fanfic writer for a while now. Not a long time by any means, but a while nonetheless. My first fic--which is now orphaned like a few of its brothers for undisclosed reasons, though if you're an og you might be able to guess why--was dated back to the 18th of November 2021. 3 years later and I've got a humble 89 works and counting (the orphaned works and unposted wips unincluded). I can safely say I've improved quite a lot since then.

Where are you going with this, then, Kitty? Surely you aren't here just to brag about your writing progress?

Well. Not exactly. But I'll start with this: I guess what I'm trying to say is I've lost the spark.

You know. The old feeling. That boost of serotonin you get after you finish a piece you're proud of, or when you get lovely reviews on ao3, or when you get a kudos email, or a new mutual, or some wild tags under your silly post. The spark. I haven't felt it in a long time, now. The last time it's been so palpable was... I'm not sure. Probably last year's October. That was a lot of fun. I was most prolific in fic writing, that year. It shouldn't feel like a long time ago. Because it wasn't.

Don't get me wrong. I love all this. All that's going on right now. The comments I'm getting--even if fewer than I had before--and all the other interactions, I appreciate and enjoy and love them so, so much. And writing my newer fic projects are well exciting. But it just isn't the same anymore. I'm afraid it never will be.

(Maybe it has something to do with the lack of interactions lately. Maybe? I don't really know, either. I'm sure we're all well aware the fandom is past its peak, and with the current developments in the MCU I am frankly unsurprised, but I dunno.)

I guess that's part of the reason I've been less active lately. I've been inactive as a whole this year, admittedly, and disappearing far too often for far too long (and I notice some of my friends are, too). I just didn't get the same joy from being in a fandom like I had when I first started this blog, or my ao3 account.

In hindsight, I've probably been a little too dependent on fandom to provide me serotonin. The past few years have been hard, the years before that, too. Life just keeps kicking me in the arse time and time again. I guess I've been using fandom and fic writing as a coping mechanism, and once I've had my fill, the joy dies off to something a little more dull. Like a gum I've been chewing for too long that the sweetness has since worn off.

Honestly? I don't want it to be this way. I want to live without being so dependent on my presence online. I want to live without only knowing joy through internet interactions. I've got to learn to. It sounds silly, but it's true. (I think I may be slightly chronically online, oh no. x'D)

So naturally my first instinct is to distance myself a little. I contemplated quitting, but I can't do that. I don't see myself ever doing that, no matter how many times my brain convinces me that I might.

When this year started, I had set some goals for writing. One of them was to write for more whumptober prompts than I did last year or complete them all. I did like 21 prompts or something last year. Of 31. Within a little more than a month. While still balancing all the life stuff I had going on. This is, if not obvious, an extremely ambitious goal. I am not insane. I don't know what I was thinking. I can't possibly do that now, can I? Not with all the stuff that's been happening.

...

Can I?

...

Yeah, no. Definitely not.

See, that's another thing: writing. Probably the thing I'm trying to get at in this post but otherwise derailed completely from. Fuck my brain.

I'm sure many of you have noticed that I've been writing significantly less. I still post, obviously, but not as much as like, last year when the number of works I had went from a few to far too much. That had helped me improve quite a lot, actually, but those days I barely slept because I just insisted to replace my sleep time with Writing Shit For The Gays. It was pretty unhealthy now that I look back at it. My sleep schedule is still shit now but, yk. Some things just never change.

I was really, really caught up on wanting to be good at writing. Like, really good. I wanted to make awesome things. I wanted to write like a real fucking pro. Like all the more popular fandom authors I look up to. I want to be like the big dogs in fandom. It sounds so silly. I did everything; sprinting daily, setting a minimum of 500 words writing sessions every day, trying new writing styles, churning out works after works, writing for prompts and events and gifts and the like. I was enjoying it, yes, but was it really something I did for myself? Or was it because I wanted to please other people or impress other people for their validation, which is something I'm entirely too dependent of? Was it for the numbers?

Well. It was more for that than for me, I realised a little too late.

So yeah. Fuck wanting to be good. I want to write for the hell of it. I want to write something that's for me. Not what the majority of the fandom or other people want to read, but for me. Which is why I absolutely loved writing works like just a matter of time, how to kill a god, or how to become a god, because they're not meant for other people but myself. (Ironically that last work is a gift but, yk. I still liked it.) I know I joke about self-projecting a lot, but it's been seriously helping me rediscover the joy of writing that doesn't come from the incessant need to be good or perfect or focus on producing more and more and more. It makes me feel like a kid again. Also, I'm only realising this now but I'd rather get like 5 people who enjoy reading my works so much and express them to me rather than 100 people who silently thumbs up at me and then go away to consume another fic or demand more. (All this to say I still love interactions, it just shouldn't be my no. 1 priority to get them when writing fanfics.)

But yeah. None of those works are perfect. They're not meant to be. But they're mine. They're me. They represent me. And it's so, so great to feel that in writing. I've been so stuck up on being some sort of content machine. I'm doing this for myself, how could I forget? I've been saying this since the beginning, I don't know why I'm still struggling to do it. God. It's ridiculous.

Anyway. That's that. This has become a very long ramble. Thank you for listening to my Ted Talk. And for letting me waste your time, if you make it to the end of this post.

[dayseternal-blog]

hello days! i hope i'm not bothering u. can i pls request for uzumaki fam fluff fic recs? 🥺

i kinda need ☀️fam fluff boost running in my system 🥹🤲

thank u in advance! love lots. i hope u are doing well~ 🤍🍃

Des 💝 I'm sorry this is over a year late. You're probably not in need of this anymore, but -

Sunshine Family Fluff Fics

Ones I can't remember if I've rec'd before:

"Sunshine family" from "Some Type of Love" by @chloelapomme - Rated T, Modern AU, One-shot. Hinata has to go grocery shopping for their Christmas Eve's diner coming in a couple of weeks. A quick job that won't take too long. Until the rest of the family decides to tag along.

"The Last Stand" from "The Little Joys and Sorrows of Everydayness" by Imanga - Rated T, Canon-Compatible, One-shot. In a desperate attempt to get themselves out of an uncomfortable situation, Naruto and Hinata risk it all.

"The Ramen Recipe" from "The Little Joys and Sorrows of Everydayness" by Imanga - Rated G, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. Naruto enjoys a Father’s Day morning in bed with his family.

"snug as a bug" by @secrettastemakerland - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Apparently, being afraid of thunder storms was genetic. Luckily for them, Hinata deals with it just fine.

"A Not Surprising Surprise Party" by secrettastemakerland - Rated G, Canon-Compatible, One-shot. Kawaki comes home from a mission on November 9th, only to find the house unusually quiet...

And the ones I've recommended before:

“Music” from “With You in the Future” by @chloelapomme - Rated E, Canon-Compliant, Series of related one-shots. The benefits of music on babies, but also on couples.

“Strawberry” by @cherryjutsu - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Naruto shares popsicles with his son just as Jiraiya did with him.

“Cooking with Dad” by cherryjutsu - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Prompt: I truly believe Naruto can cook.  It’s a personal headcanon of mine that he always had the skill but never bothered to do anything with it from both laziness of twelve years of no one to show it off too. When Himawari and Boruto are born he wears the apron to make their favorites just to see them smile. His favorite little taste testers.

Untitled by cherryjutsu - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, Drabble. Prompt: Can I ask prompt? Boruto as a little kid asking his Dad how he lost his arm/how it’s all bandaged up? Thank you!! <3

“Fort Uzumaki” by @itachiboutit - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Family time during a bad thunderstorm.

“missing out” by @flowerslut - Rated T for language, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. Prompt: Naruto training with himawari and being proud of her.

“Our Whiskers” by @nekomamoru - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Prompt: Whiskers

“for you” by nekomamoru - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. A/N it would be a lie to say that I wasn’t slightly disappointed that Naruto had missed his inauguration but more than anyone, I think Himawari herself would’ve felt a little guilty so this idea popped up and I had to write it down. enjoy!

“The Apple Never Falls Far From the Tree” by @matchaball - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, Two-shot. Prompt: From chapter seven of the Konoha Hiden: where Naruto talks to his plants and Hinata presses flowers.

“Pranks” from “Your Hand in Mine” by @spyder-m - Rated G, Canon-Compatible, One-shot. After one too many tricks, Boruto sparks a prank war with his father.

"Day After Day" by spyder-m - Rated T, Canon-Compatible, Series of one-shots. Oneshot series exploring the day to day life of Naruto and Hinata post-The Last. Headcanons about them dating, living together and starting a family.

“To Welcome You” by @eliphya - Rated G, Canon-Compliant (?), One-shot. Naruto and his children have chores to do before Hinata comes home again. 

“Tickling Cheeks” by eliphya - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Himawari loves her fathers stubble and insists on him never shaving again.

“The Job He Never Wanted” by @alabasterink-blog - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. The swing was old and rotting. His children have a solution.

“Time Out” by alabasterink-blog - Rated G, Canon-Compliant (?), One-shot. Daddy didn’t like oranges. Himawari had a solution.

“Sunshine” by alabasterink-blog - Rated G, Canon-Compliant (?), One-shot. Himawari decides she wants to be just like her grandma when she grows up.

“Mama’s Boy 2: Like Father Like Son, We Love Her So Much” by basmah-chan - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. In which Boruto needs a little lecture on his hate for his mother’s hair ties, which leads to some father and son bonding time. Their topic to bond over: Hinata.

“Pretend” by @8bittheatrics - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Kids will be kids, and so will some adults.

“Bed Head” by @utsus - Rated T for language, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. Naruto and Sasuke are in charge of doing their daughters’ hairstyles for the day. Everything is a struggle.

“Sunflowers” by @myaekingheart - Rated G, Canon-Compliant (?), One-shot. Naruto teams up with his children to do something special for Hinata for Mother’s Day.

“Ouchimaki” by Tuvstarrs - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. To dress a toddler is an occupational hazard of parenthood that comes with a rather specific set of dangers. Naruto knows this but trying to explain that to your childless friends without sounding like an idiot is a completely different headache.

“his happy ending” by flyingonfeatherlesswings - Rated G, Canon-Compliant (?), One-shot. Boruto Uzumaki is less than enthused when a film about his father’s heroic deeds is released. He ends up dragged to it despite his protests and learns some upsetting details about his father’s early childhood.

“Mission impossible” by Saku015 - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Hinata goes out to meet her friends, so it is Naruto’s duty to look after his kids for a few hours.

I hope you are doing well, too!!!!

[heylittleriotact]

💖Open Invitation Update💖

Hey friends, I've decided to put Open Invitation on hiatus for a while. I'm planning to return to it by November 15th, but the date may change.

October is crazy busy for me just like September was, and I'm finding I'm not able to devote enough time to writing right now. We're also at a very complex/heavy place in the story right now, and it's taking a lot out of me emotionally to write it. I'm struggling with a lot of self-judgement and negative self-talk that's making the act of writing this something that I'm dreading rather than deeply, deeply enjoying as I have for the majority of the story. As wanky as it is to admit, engagement has flagged somewhat over the past few chapters and that's playing into the self-doubt aspect as well even though I know it shouldn't. RSD is gonna RSD, ya know?

In the words of Amanda Palmer (even though she can be cringe af): "I've already spent too much time doing things I didn't want to" and right now Open Invitation is bumming me out more than it's bringing me joy, so I think now is a good time to step back for a little bit and play with the story privately (or just ignore it for 6 weeks) and rekindle that spark - the one that prompted me to write a 163k word longfic after a 7 year break in the first place.

I'll be posting Chapter 44 this weekend or early this week as it's something I want to wrap up before I shelve this for a while.

Thank you to everyone who's followed this insane story so far. It's been so lovely to share it with you and I'm looking forward to sharing more soon. In the meantime: avoid making pacts with pretty archfey, and always slap the hand.

Love,

V.

[noodlepals]

Ramble about fic writing incoming-

I've been wanting to post more writing/fic related stuff again ,but I've honestly been struggling with getting enough inspiration to actually write out the ideas I have lol. Like it's been hard lately trying to find a scene/idea that just immediately sparks joy in a way where I'm so excited to sit down and type, and the ideas that I do get like that feel a lil too outlandish to post or I'd have to start writing a bunch of build up chapters that I just don't have the energy for rn. So tbh, I've considered encouraging requests for fics, I just don't want to start a sense of entitlement around my (mostly fan) content, as well as my time and energy.

At the same time, I think it would be fun to see different fic ideas from different perspectives.

So, all this to say, if you'd like to drop a request in my ask box for fun-totally fine if you want to do so on anon, I'll still credit the fic to your ask should I decide to write it-you're more than welcome to, just please don't automatically expect me to write it, if I choose to write literally no one's prompt that's up to me sorry, and don't expect a response from me either, definitely do not spam a request. Also yes, please do not come at me with anything nsfw. You're obviously not obligated to submit a prompt, whoever's reading this lol, especially if you were already planning on writing said idea(s), this would just be purely for the sake of fun, no pressure.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

7, 9, and 17!

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

I like just being able to make something entirely with words! Whole worlds, histories, feelings! Just made out of strings of letters. I have always been a person who like making things, so writing is a wonderful way of doing so for me.

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

I believe that the energy of living things must be changed in some fundamental way when it leaves the body and I believe that people may not fully understand that process. (I have no fucking clue but sometimes places do be 'spooky' in strange imperceptible ways and I'm open to the possibility that ghosts are the cause.)

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

I have. NINE current WIPS. Thankfully I can group up a good number of them.

I have a bunch of installments in the Mishap series that I'm working on which while looking like nothing more than PWPs, are actually a fun way of exploring emotional intimacy as much as physical intimacy because one of my favorite things to do is discuss the idea of BDSM as a way of exploring vulnerabilities that it might be uncomfortable or frightening to do in other settings.

There's also Bonded, which I am really struggling with. I started writing the series just because I was having fun playing with a lot of silly ideas, but Shattered is much more serious in tone and while I usually love that, and I have a full outline of Shattered as well as outlines for the next two installments as well, I just haven't found the joy in it that I did in the beginning. I really like how chapter 6 wraps up, and it's been torture trying to move on to chapter 7. I don't know when I'll get over that hump, but it's been 3 months and I still haven't managed it yet.

Tumblr prompts, going well enough. Taking this as an opportunity to just write fast(ish) snippets. I often really want to linger and show how relationships develop thoroughly because (and especially with ShigaDabiHawks) I need a believable progression to show how those character could have possibly ended up together when they're at odds with each other's goals. However, for these I'm just going ham and that's a nice little change of pace.

Stalling out on the original piece (shigadabi with the serial numbers filed off because I wanted to use an original fantasy setting I've used for other OC work). Having trouble balancing how to progress the plot without losing the spark between the two characters after a... disagreement.

The Hanahaki piece is my fucking baby right now. Feeling as good about this one as I did about Honeytrap and Grey Area. It's so achingly tender and I love it to absolute bits. I have one area that I'm still trying to make a decision on and thought that the tumblr prompts would be a good way to step back and give it some breathing room after banging out 27k for it in two days. I'm very excited about this one.

And last but not least, the Time Travel fic! I'm enjoying this one too but I'm thinking about it logistically right now and trying to decide if I'm going to make it a multi-chapter or not. I usually don't like to do that because I write very differently for a multi-chap than I do for a one-shot and I much prefer the style of writing for an insanely long one-shot than a multi-chap (yes this may be why Shattered is fucking me up so badly, also why I really hated Playing Favorites by the end), but I'm not sure if it would be too jarring to go from Hawks' POV to Dabi's after minimum of 12K in Hawks' POV, but I need some scenes to be from Dabi's so eeehhhh. I'll figure it out. I like this one, alternate timelines are always fun to play around with and the butterfly effect here is so fucking strong.

I think I'm going to be finishing the Tumblr prompts before going back to the Hanahaki fic, but we'll see! And this is all dependent on me not starting any more pieces in the meantime. Which. Oof.

Thanks for asking!

[imagymnasia]

personal yelling below the cut, feel free to keep scrolling. I just need to be sappy and hopeful for like two seconds before The Despair tries to take me again.

So first, some context I guess.

I've always loved books; always been a storyteller. And when I realized that writing was something anyone could do, the entire world opened up. (Shout out to my 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Nutzman. I owe you my life.) And for a long while I wrote for the joy of it, you know? Just because I could. Just because I had stories that needed to be told. Sometimes the story was profound or about processing deep emotion, and sometimes it was making a self-insert OC and kissing your childhood cartoon crush.

You know. Like you do.

And then I graduated and went to college and learned about the world and (for a multitude of reasons that would take me a book to explain fully) I gave up. I lost it. My muse, my motivation, my spark, whatever you want to call it. It was just gone. I stopped writing, I hit the wall, and all that shiny-eyed wonder and joy and purpose simply vanished.

Years pass. I try again, sometimes, but it never sticks. I can't recapture what I had, but neither can I make it anew. I try again. I fail. I try agan, but with less optimism. I fail.

I stop trying.

Fast forward to the pandemic, and discovering a fandom that inspired me so much I started writing fanfic again. I hadn't written fanfic in 20+ years. Hell, I'd barely written ANYTHING since the early 2000s. And it feels good! I'm on a roll. I join zines, I slap stuff on AO3, I trade headcanons with my buddies. It was great! But it wasn't enough. People leave. Fandom fizzles. ButI keep trying.

And I burn out. Again. And I quit. AGAIN.

Then FFXIV took hold of me and I give it one last shot. Just a little; just a TASTE. It's not even writing, I tell myself, as I give my character backstory and watch as she slays gods and falls in love. It's just for me and like one other person, anyway. (Hi, Haj! You are the Newt to my Herman, the Sain to my Kent, and I forever adore you.)

And it's fine. At this point in my story, I'd given up on Writing, but I could play in my little sandbox. Whatever dregs of happiness I could find in my pretend world were enough. Honestly, I was just happy to be imagining again.

And THEN I found more XIV fans, and god help me but they cared? About my character? About her story? About ME? And the fans became friends. And then we started writing together. And then we made a small writing group together. And somehow in the two decades since I decided I was going to Be a Writer I was actually for-real writing again.

So here we are at present day and we're trading fics and talking about poetry and doing writing challenges and sharing prompts and building resources and ??????

[The writer pauses here because she is once again overcome with emotion because the profundity of what is happening hits her all over again.]

...

You know, I was trying to be witty and articulate about this but I just gotta say it: I'm so happy.

I'm so fucking happy it hurts, because this is all I've ever wanted. All I have ever truly wanted was to find a group of friends who love this as much as I do. Who want to write, who want to create, who care what other folks are doing and working on and creating, who cheer for each other and lift up the things we make and say This is Good. This Matters.

Not all of us want to be capital-w Writers (in fact I may be the only one? One of two? I don't know and I haven't asked and that's on me) but the fact that we all came together because this thing that brings me, personally, so much joy ALSO does that for the rest of us? It gives me hope. It is inspiring and beautiful and I am not at all exaggerating when I say that sometimes I am so overwhelmed with emotion just because our little writing corner exists that it brings me to tears.

I'm crying right now.

Community matters. Art matters. And for the first time in my life those two things have finally intersected in this wonderful awkward beautiful messy imperfect incredible space, with people I care about and trust with my whole heart, and I am so

fucking

happy

that I truly do not have the proper words to convey what it means to me.

I feel like I've found a little piece of myself again, a piece I have long neglected and ignored and told it didn't matter---all because it only ever mattered to me, and that just wasn't enough. Dreams long since dead are rising up again; for they were never dead actually, they were just sleeping and now that season is over and it's time to grow again.

So while I'm processing a lot of Big Dark Scary Things right now, I am also thinking of the Good, and holding to hope and defiance and beauty in the face of all that. And I'm going to keep creating, because to do otherwise would be to turn my back on the things that make me, me; to give up is to let Big Dark Scary win, and I refuse to let it take these things from me again.

I don't really know how to end this so I guess I'll just say it's really nice to have direction again, and to have people to share it with. I don't talk about this stuff irl and there are a myriad reasons why that I won't get into.

So. I guess if you're in the group and you've read this then thank you.

It feels weird to thank people for this but I'm truly grateful to each and every one of you. Thanks for being a bright spot in a dark world and giving me a place to actually, fearlessly, be my fucking self. It may seem like a small inconsequential thing but I promise you, it's not.

That's all.

I'm going to go have another cry and eat snacks, now.... and then? Then I will write.

Ioj out.

[ghoste-catte]

I was curious what advice would you give to someone new to writing fics? I've been wanting to get back into it but haven't seriously written something since high school. I hope this isn't an annoying question or anything!

Not an annoying question at all! I'm just a little worried that I won't have terribly good or useful advice. To be honest, I also sort of stopped writing in earnest right as I finished high school, and didn't pick it back up until my late 20s. It's certainly an adjustment! But I think the few things that really helped me get back into writing fic as a hobby and something I spend quite a bit of time on would be:

Write for yourself first, then find your other motivations. My original inspiration in getting back into fic writing was that there just were not that many fics I liked for my favorite pairing, and I wanted more of them, and I especially wanted more with the tropes and characterizations I wanted to see. I think at the very core of anything you need that internal spark that drives you. At the same time, for me at least, if I just relied on my own drive, I would not get much done; I need some external guardrails. So having people send prompts, or writing for particular events, or writing stuff for friends really helps me to get my ass in gear and finish stuff. That may not be the perfect motivator for you, and that's fine! You just gotta figure out what is.

Be open to inspiration. Anything and everything can be spun out into a story with the right tweaking. Obviously stuff like music is a classic inspiration source, but I've also pulled ideas from poetry, from memes, from Reddit threads, from YouTube videos, from rambling conversations on Discord and from real life to make fics out of. So many times, someone will post a silly Twitter screencap, and I'll think, There's a fic in this. And a lot of the time, there is! Research is a wonderful thing, but so is serendipity. If you're out there actively looking for ideas, eventually one that you like will stumble past you.

Find your community. I can genuinely say I never would have finished more than one fic if I didn't have fandom friends to talk to about even stupid headcanons, to bounce ideas off of, and to encourage me (and to encourage them in turn!). Discord has been a godsend, and some of my closest online friends are people I met in the GaaLee discord server. As I've gotten more comfortable as a writer, I've also joined general writing servers and Reddit communities and have found them immensely helpful on both a motivational level (bingos, sprints, owe-me challenges) and on a craft level (plot workshopping and writing ethics and live grammar help). It's a lot easier to think about fic ideas and hash through problem moments when I have a constant stream of fandom-related chatter coming from the little people who live in my phone! Ao3 is an amazing website, and it's great as, well, an archive, but it isn't social media by design. If you want conversation and human connection and cheerleading, you've gotta forge out and find it.

Make it a habit ... If you want to produce anything longer than a couple hundred words, you really have to set aside time for it. And writing is just like knitting or dirt biking or painting little model figurines: the more you do it, the more easily it comes. When I was first getting back into the proper swing of things, I committed myself to 30 minutes of writing per week. Just 30 minutes. I didn't even hit that goal every week, but there were tons of weeks I got on a roll and went over that amount, and by the end of the year I'd written over 200,000 words. I used to spend an hour laboriously tip-tapping out 200 words, but now I can easily blow through 1k in a 50 minute sprint. It's all about training that muscle.

... But don't make it a chore. With fanfic, you aren't doing this as a job, and you aren't ultimately doing it for anyone other than you. That means you can take breaks when you need them, you can set deadlines and then fail to meet them, you can write stuff and then decide to never post it. When you start getting burnt out, when the practice loses the joy and energy, stop. There's no 'hustle' here. In our capitalist society we're so trained to push past our limits and keep going even when it hurts us, but the hobby you do for connection and relaxation and whatever else shouldn't be like that.

Ignore metrics. Sometimes stuff isn't gonna get hits, or kudos, or comments. There are some basic 'rules' as to the stuff that does and doesn't get traction, but every time you post something it's a roll of the dice. If you're focused on watching that kudos counter tick up, you will get bummed out fast. And any writer will tell you that the stuff you think is your best work will never be the stuff that gets the most accolades. So you have to find something else to give you a sense of success. For me, it's watching my wordcount go up in my stats and those occasional comments where someone has a lot to say and that one person who always leaves me a <3 emoji (and, shout out to @egregiousderp, having someone to have long one-on-one conversations with about the stuff that never made it to page).

Don't strive for perfection. It's really easy to want your first ever fic to be a complete showstopper, the best fic fandom has ever seen, hitting all the tropes and the ideas and the characterization that you just know fandom is missing and would be everyone's top favorite if only it was written. This is a trap. No one fic can be all things. Most people who want to write an epic as their very first venture will not see the end of that epic, because they haven't put in the practice hours to make something on that scale work. That's not to say you can't start out with a big, sprawling multichap, just don't expect it to be the greatest thing since sliced bread if you're just starting out, and be okay with abandoning it for greener pastures if you get to that point. Think of the first time someone makes a vase out of clay or bakes a loaf of bread. That's never their best vase or their best bread. If they keep up with it, they'll make more and better vases and loaves. Likewise, your first fic is probably not gonna be your best fic. See it for what it is: your launchpad.

You can't edit an empty page, but you can over-edit a full one. This kind of spins off of #7, but if the words aren't there, you can't fix them. Daydreams and headcanons are fantastic (and god, how many times have I wished for a speech-to-text engine that projected my falling asleep thoughts onto a Google doc for later perusal), but they aren't fic. If you want to write fic, you've gotta get comfortable with the idea of sloppy outlines and rough first drafts. You can't build a house without a frame and you can't build a man without a skeleton (I mean, you can, I guess, but he'd be one floppy man). The nice thing about fic is that it doesn't matter if that frame is structurally unsound or the skeleton has 18 too many bones, you can clean that up in the editing process. But you can't start hanging curtains and arranging furniture in something that doesn't even have walls. That's the process. But! Also know when to set down the editor's pen and say, "Okay, this is good enough for government work", and call it done. ("Done" doesn't have to mean "posted", but it does mean, "I'm done picking at this for now, and I'm gonna go write some more stuff".) Over-editing can make stuff seem laborious and forced, and it prevents you from actually improving. To continue belaboring the house metaphor, you can spend your whole life rearranging furniture in just one room, but the end result of that is a pretty narrow existence and a room with a lot of footprints and tracks in the carpet.

Write shit down. When you have ideas, jot them down--in a notebook, in a Google Doc, in the Notes app of your phone, in pen on the back of your hand. You think you will remember that brilliant line of dialogue or sparkling snippet of narration or genius plot that came to you in a dream, but you Will Not. Write it down. Write it down. Write it down! There have been so many times when a fic was completely saved by past!me having written down my shower thoughts about what happens next in the fic, that present!me had completely forgotten about and was floundering over.

Have fun with it! Try different stuff. Try stupid stuff. Try experimental stuff. Do stuff you've never done before that you aren't sure will work. It's important to get comfortable with your niche (for example, I know I'm never going to be the sort of person who writes intricate plots of intrigue or super long 100k epics or detailed battles), but you can't find that niche unless you explore lots of different niches! Figure out what you love and what you absolutely hate, and then keep doing the stuff you love.

Okay, so that was actually TEN things, but ... I hope you still found this helpful. Feel free to send another ask if any of this was confusing or unclear. Good luck with your fic writing and, if you want, send me a link to what you've written once you've written it! I'd love to read it.

[tantumuna]

Not on the prompt list, but could I get hanahaki with a non geraskier ship of your choice? Totally cool if hanahakis not your thing though

FIRST of all, i'm so sorry for the wait. I've never actually written hanahaki before, so this took some thinking. I hope you like it!

Unrequited Lambert x Jaskier | Lambert x Aiden x Jaskier | Hanahaki Disease

cw: mentions of surgery, vomiting

Send me Prompts! | Patreon

Already, machines beeped all around Jaskier as a constant reminder of his decision. It was for the best, and he knew it, because every morning for the past six months he had vomited pretty blue flower petals into the toilet bowl. Though it was time to put an end to the feelings and the strain in his breath, Jaskier still felt a lingering weakness in his chest, so he allowed himself one last glance at his phone.

It was a photo of Lambert, because of course it was. Jaskier had been staring at Lambert for as long as they’d known each other with hearts in his eyes and a thumping in his chest, but Lambert had never looked at him like that. Lambert had those eyes, too, but they were for someone else. Learning that, Jaskier had been angry at first, that Lambert could be his friend for so long and dare to not return his feelings. Rather, he had the audacity to go and fall for someone else, but then Jaskier had actually met Aiden. Jaskier understood, after that, why Lambert looked at Aiden the way that he did.

Aiden had a fiery spark in his personality that made everyone like him. While he was crude and a bit unusual, he was fun loving and easy-going, and always quick to crack a joke. Jaskier liked him, too, and after realizing that, Jaskier had given up on sitting around bitter for the rest of his life. His life wouldn’t have been very long in that scenario, but he was changing that, now. Lambert deserved to be happy Selfishly, Jaskier thought he also deserved to be happy, and he wasn’t going to do that by choking on flower petals.

“Are you ready, Mister Pankratz?” The nurse asked. She had finished the final preparations. Jaskier just needed to go to sleep, now.

“Yeah,” he rasped back, then handed her his phone so she could tuck it away with the rest of his belongings.

“Are you nervous?” She wondered. She’d seen the picture.

“No,” was Jaskier’s reply. He shook his head, sighed, and rested back against the pillows.

He was in the hospital, sitting in a hospital bed with an IV hooked into his arm. When he’d decided that he was going to be happy for Lambert instead of bitter about his joy, Jaskier had scheduled his surgery. With the petals would go his feelings, but he’d resigned himself to that. Lambert owed him nothing and keeping onto these flowers and these feelings made it seem otherwise. If Jaskier could be nothing more, then he wanted to be a good friend, which meant this had to stop. Lambert deserved to love whom he wanted without a shred of guilt.

“It’s a short procedure,” she promised. “You’ll wake up feeling right as rain, don’t worry.” She’d already explained the consequences, and Jaskier didn’t to hear them, again.

Lambert had been the love of his life for years. How was he supposed to move on in a world without these feelings? Jaskier didn’t know, but he did know that he was doing it for Lambert. Lambert deserved better than this, so he swallowed his own hesitations down and just relaxed.

When Jaskier woke up, he could breathe. Recovery took weeks, but for those weeks, he could breathe. Looking at his pictures with Lambert didn’t feel the same as they always had, but he could breathe, and none of it was as bad as he thought it would be. Though Jaskier didn’t feel the same way, anymore, he remembered the way he had felt, so nothing changed. When Lambert messaged him to go out, Jaskier still put on his best clothes and fixed his hair and went.

Upon his arrival at the park, Jaskier didn’t look for Lambert, but instead looked for that shock of orange hair that was always with him, now. Lambert and Aiden had been dating for months, and they were happy. For the first time, Jaskier was happy for them. It was easy to be with them. Easy to be friends.

Jaskier approached from behind, and once he was close enough, he threw himself up with a loud shriek of laughter, his arms around Aiden’s and Lambert’s neck. He tugged them in together, squishing all three of their heads, and laughed only harder when Aiden yelped, and Lambert sounded annoyed.

“What are you doing?” Lambert snapped.

“Jaskier—hey,” Aiden quipped.

Jaskier laughed louder and pulled away. “It’s hot,” he said, “so I thought that we should go get some ice cream. I’m buying.” After plucking it out of his back pocket, Jaskier waved his wallet in the air.

“You’re offering to third wheel a date is what you’re doing,” Aiden said, and Jaskier snickered. He was.

“Sure, sure,” he muttered. “Just make sure to feed each other ice cream so I can get pictures.”

Lambert and Aiden glanced at one another as they mulled it over, but eventually, they nodded.

“Sounds good,” Lambert said. “Why don’t you guys go find a place to sit, and I’ll just go get it?”

Before Jaskier could back far enough away, Lambert snatched his wallet right out of the air and waved it around with a smug, pompous look on his face and a snicker. If Jaskier was going to wave it around, then he was going to get it stolen, too.

“You don’t even know what I like,” Jaskier accused.

“You like pistachio,” Lambert scoffed, “because you’re disgusting.”

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and mustered the most offended gasp and gaze he could muster, jaw wide open. “You—rude!” He shouted, but Lambert was already walking away with his wallet.

With Lambert gone, Jaskier quickly found himself pulled back into a shocking and jarring reality when Aiden grabbed his hand in order to pull him off towards where the picnic tables were. Jaskier was too confused to say anything, so he just let himself be dragged through the grass.

“Pistachio’s not disgusting,” Aiden said the moment they sat down. “Little eccentric, though.” He shrugged.

“Well—it’s good,” Jaskier argued, brows furrowing. What was going on. Aiden still hadn’t let go of his hand.

“Oh, completely. I like eccentric, Jaskier. So does Lambert.”

“You…like,” Jaskier repeated, then swallowed hard. There were certainly no flower petals, this time. Just nervousness.

“You ever see Lambert so eager to run off and do work? No, he did it on purpose. Wanted us to talk. Didn’t know how you’d take it coming from him, seeing as how your friends and all.”

“Wait—what?” Jaskier’s brow furrowed. “Aiden, can you just tell me what’s going on? This doesn’t make any sense.”

“We like you,” Aiden said. “Lambert only figured it out like, what, two days ago?” Aiden made a show of counting it on his fingers. “Me, though? Knew it from the moment I saw you. If you’re into it, anyway. Know we wouldn’t pressure you.”

“I…” Jaskier didn’t know how to respond.

This was the strangest thing he’d ever heard, but also the most exciting. The longer Aiden held his hand, the more Jaskier’s chest swelled with such a light and loving joy that he thought he might just float away. He knew the feeling well, because he remembered feeling it before. Only this time, it didn’t come with flower petals in his lungs, just the nervousness of being asked out on a date.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Aiden responded. He quickly pulled his hand away, then straightened himself up as Lambert arrived at their table with three cups of ice cream and Jaskier’s wallet in his back pocket.

“I want to,” Jaskier responded. “We could give it a shot.”

Lambert sat down with a thump and handed out the little cups. “Sounds like you had the talk already,” he muttered.

Aiden was too busy grinning to care about what Lambert said, and Lambert himself had a flush from his face down to his neck where the collar of his shirt hid the rest of it.

“We should try it,” Jaskier said, louder that time. “Please.” He reached out for both of them, overjoyed to find that they both grabbed back.

This was different, but something about it felt perfect. It was the easiest Jaskier could ever remember breathing in that moment, with Lambert’s hand in his and Aiden’s squeezing tightly.

[genuineformality]

Febuwhump: What I Learned

I've mentioned before that I'm a writer returning to fandom spaces after a long absence. I never stopped writing, exactly, but my creative outlets were very different (I was playing a lot of roleplaying games) so the type of writing I did changed.

Roleplaying writing is an intensely collaborative experience and there are as many ways to do it as there are people who play games. My sweet spot is play by email or chat, with long, intense one-on-one scenes in which each player takes turns steering the scene and the other reacts to their prompts and gambits.

I promise this is relevant. More under the cut.

There is little time to overthink in a roleplaying scene with someone else. Your partner is literally waiting on you to write the next piece of dialogue, the next description, the next thing to force the scene to move forward. You can't really second guess yourself and once you click send, it's gone to your partner to take the scene where they will. Even if you talk to your partner ahead of time and come to some conclusions about how you want the scene to overall go, people are full of surprises and sometimes they go in delightfully unexpected directions. And for those of us with chronically low dopamine, having the near-instantaneous dopamine feedback loop is amazing. Five stars, highly recommend.

I haven't had opportunities for this kind of writing for a long time and I have really missed it. On the occasions when I've had willing partners, I've been a depressed wreck of a human being and unable to create much of anything. When I've been in better positions for it myself, they've been depressed wrecks of human beings. Or the games they're playing aren't games I'm interested in, or, or, or. There have been dozens of reasons and most of them have meant that I just stopped writing creatively.

Enter fanfiction.

I am not a regular in fandom spaces. I tend to consume media and then leave it behind. The fandoms I've actively consumed fan-generated content for are relatively few and rare, but they do exist and I'm glad to find others who write what I want to read and share it with the world. Sometimes I'll get into a fandom briefly, find what I'm looking for, and then leave. Sometimes I'll get into a fandom briefly, discover that the community is not for me, and leave.

This isn't shade; this is just an acknowledgement of what I want out of my fandom spaces and I'm old enough that I no longer have an interest in doing things I don't really want to do. Konmari your brain space as much as your physical space. Don't keep things that do not spark joy, especially in your hobbies.

Netflix Shadow & Bone came out and I saw it at exactly the right moment. I half remember throwing out the first of the Grishaverse books some years ago (and shortly afterward swearing off all YA fiction), but fuck if the Six of Crows cast didn't just suck me right in. I'm a sucker for a disabled protagonist, tons of trauma, and clever crime. I wanted more of that more or less immediately.

If you've been reading my blog, you know the rest.

Long digression aside (I swear it's relevant), I started writing again, but when you haven't been writing for a long time, writing is hard. Moreover, when you don't have an outside person to bounce your ideas off of, how do you even know where a plot is going to go? By the end of January, I'd published ~8K words between two SOC stories, but written almost 20K that I tossed into a scraps file (in case I decide to go back and reuse some of that prose or dialogue).

So I went looking for inspiration in the form of writing prompts and when Febuwhump came along, I thought, "Hey! This could be a good thing to encourage some writing. Write a little bit every day with a daily prompt, indulge my desire to just read about beloved characters having a hard time of it, have a reasonable goal... let's do it!"

Having that just little bit of outside impetus - the prompts - did me a world of good. Doing it in the form of a challenge meant that I had to stop obsessing over each word. The goal is to churn out some amount of word count, it doesn't really matter how much, and make a story each day, even if it's only a few hundred words.

And daily posting gave me that little kick of dopamine every time I got a like on Tumblr or a kudos on AO3.

But here's the thing.

I quickly realized that the first two stories I posted could very well be sequels to each other. And because I didn't just play roleplaying games with my friends, but I played years-long campaigns where narrative arcs are built on crazier, zanier shit than the Febuwhump prompts... writing a cohesive narrative was actually more compelling to me than just an exercise to write 28 disparate stories.

The way I wrote these prompts was often frantic extemporizing the night before I posted in the morning. At that point, the goal was not just to write something kind of whumpy, but to create a story, in the same way I would if I was steering a roleplaying scene and someone said, "wouldn't it be cool if-" and left it up to me to figure out how to get us from point A to point B where we can reasonably do that cool thing they thought of on a whim.

As it turns out, I *love* that.

I won't be doing another prompt challenge soon, because I have finite time for writing and I would very much like to get back to my SOC AU and the Deus Ex character study and the Yentl Fix-it Fic, not to mention the sewing and cross stitch projects that are currently languishing. I would also like to read more fic, which definitely went by the wayside while I was working on this.

But this was fun (and hard and sometimes torturous) in a way writing hasn't been in a few years. If nothing else, this recaptured my desire to just write again. And for that alone, I'm so grateful to have had the experience.

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

Thru the Window- Joe x Reader

(prompt: you're living in the Netherlands with the Def Leppard crowd while they're recording Hysteria. You're Joe's girlfriend, but you're both trying to keep your relationship a secret)

Inspired by the song "Thru the Window" by REO Speedwagon (a song about this ever so classic and adorable trope. I also tried to use as many of these lyrics as possible :3D)

------

(June 1986)

Joe's eyes shifted over to the clock on his nightstand yet again after another five seconds had passed. He just couldn't help himself. It was 11:22, and 11:35 couldn't possibly come soon enough. A warm breeze blew through his open window, hitting the bottoms of his feet as he lay flat on his back. There was adrenaline pulsing through him so ardently that he tried to will it away, but it was no use. He was too excited, and he had to wait at least another ten minutes or so before he could act on it.

His eagerness had certainly slowed down time itself tonight, and it had definitely gotten the better of him in multiple ways.

For one thing, his leg wouldn't stop bouncing. For another thing, he'd gotten changed far too early, and was laying on his bed in his date clothes. His "date clothes" (being a rather unflattering combination of a Cheap Trick t-shirt tucked into some sweatpants) weren't meant to be anything to look at, but he wanted to be as casual as possible. The goal was to be unrecognizable (as much as you could be at this time of night), but pleasing. 

Either way, Joe knew you wouldn't mind it. To him, these 'dates' you two had weren't done for the looks. You saw each other enough that you didn't give a shit about proper attire.

Joe's hands were neatly and formally folded on his stomach as he stared up at the dark ceiling of his hotel room. With nothing to distract him, his mind was on the verge of running mad. There were so many things he could've been thinking about as he waited, such as the tremendous progress that had been made in recording the new album, whether or not the jukebox at the pub got fixed yet, or what he'd have for breakfast the next morning.

What he actually chose to think of was "Why did I turn off the light, again?"

Some answers were quite simple.

"Oh yeah. Cos' to everyone else I'm 'asleep' right now."

The light being off was just a small but vital detail to the plan you two had for the night.

Once his own question was answered, his mind moved onto the next topic: another five seconds had passed. Joe turned his head to look at the clock again. 11:23. Great.

His head angled back upwards, seeing the imaginary dots and waves of colors appear before his eyes in the dark. His leg still bounced, his hands began to weave together, and he closed his eyes to hum the first tune that came to mind. It was necessary to drown out the sound of the ticking clock in his head.

Joe inhaled slowly, and held the breath for a quick instant. Just ten more minutes, he told himself. Ten more minutes, and then he could go. Ten more minutes. Ten. Two sets of five. Five sets of two. Just ten more-

"Fuck it," he lowly said as he sat up and put on his shoes. 

Oh well. These dates weren't about being on time, either. 'On time' was late, after all. He wanted to decide when the time had come.

After slipping on his shoes, double checking that he had his wallet, and triple checking that his door was locked, Joe pushed open the window sash to create a more ideal opening to slip through. Into the darkness he went, out onto the fire escape, then he descended to the ground below. He began on the second floor, so each step lower was done with the utmost caution. 

When he reached the next level, his heart jumped upon seeing the light still on in Malvin's room. Flattening himself next to the window, Joe carefully climbed over the railing of the fire escape and lowered himself down until it was safe enough to let go. 

His feet met the ground, making a firm landing. He looked back up at the lit window and grinned under the open summer sky. He'd slipped away like a thief in the night.

Joe's legs began to move, trotting to the other side of the hotel (the side by the lake), and feeling the warm breeze rushing by his face. He couldn't help but smile; all his pent-up adrenaline was finally being put to use. 

 As always, he made sure to race for the shadows of the building to make a trail no one could follow. He was always beyond careful, making sure nobody would ever see or hear his driven intentions. It was better that no one knew. It was more fun that way for both of you.

Your silhouette became clear to him once he reached the other side, your window now visible on high. Joe slowed his run until he was a few yards from the base of the hotel. His head angled up to your room, taking note of the dim light from within. You weren't facing the window, but Joe knew you were waiting for him on this summer night. 

He could've sworn he sensed your excitement, too; he could practically hear your heartbeat. It may have been his own heightened sparks of joy pounding in his ears- as he knew he was unarguably early. Still, date night was date night, and the singer was eager to kick things off. There was no time to lose. It was time to announce his arrival.

After reaching down into the grass and locating a small stone, Joe found a trajectory from where he stood, and flung his attention getter up at your window.

***

Your eyes shifted over to the clock on your nightstand once another five minutes had passed. It was 11:27, and 11:35 was just around the corner. Smiling, you turned back to your mirror and leaned forward, finishing up the last bit of your makeup. A warm breeze blew through your open window, lifting thin strands of your hair up to slightly flutter in front of your eyes. 

It was true that you didn't need to dress up in any way, but your excitement had gotten the better of you. The plans for the night urged you to be dolled up at least a little bit. Who cared if it was going on midnight? You were still going out on a date, and you were still going to be in public. Some jeans and a crop top were just right for the occasion- with it being a warm and breezy night. The outfit was casual enough for the pub that you and Joe called your own, but flattering enough that you knew Joe would love it.

You drew back from the vanity and admired your appearance. Tonight would be great without a doubt. All there was left to do was wait for the man of the hour. Maybe you'd wait at the window and-

The sound of something landing behind you grabbed your attention. You turned and looked to the floor, spotting a small stone. Your eyes squinted from confusion, but your mouth angled into a smile.

To the window you went, and you gazed outside, seeing Joe down on the lawn below.

"Really?" you gently scoffed at him.

He looked a bit embarrassed, "Sorry! I didn't see it was open 'til it was too late..."

You chuckled and shook your head, turning back to stuff your wallet into your pocket and to switch off your lamp. With your room now dark, and your door locked, you slipped away through your own window, and made your way down your own fire escape.

Joe held out his hand once you were within reach, and led you down the remaining stairs.

You told him, "You're early."

He immediately retaliated, "You're lucky."

"How?"

"You don't have any acquaintances living below you," he tilted his head sweetly, "When I climbed down just now, Malvin was still awake. He could've caught me, you know..."

You rubbed your thumb over his hand and scoffed, "I doubt that- you're too sneaky."

"Could say the same about you, you know," he teased back, placing his other hand on your waist and moving in closer.

"That's why we're a good fit," you declared before moving your hand to the back of his head and kissing him. Another breeze blew around you both as he locked you in the embrace.

When it was broken, he quickly stepped back and pulled on your arm, urging you to come along jokingly, "Now quick, before anyone sees-"

He dragged you forward, adding, "I've got a good feeling the jukebox is gonna be fixed tonight!"

You laughed as you began to run next to him, both of you now running freely through the night in the open street. The energy between both of you was high, making it a thrill to be alive in that moment. Such high emotion was bound to make the date night better than it'd ever been, taking you both where you'd never been before.

 Yes, you could have taken one of your cars, but then there would've suddenly been a higher chance of someone seeing that at least one of you was gone. It was just another minute detail to ensure the safety of your plan. Even the pub you and Joe normally went to was one that the others probably didn't even know existed. 

The route to get there was a simple one; you always liked to say that it was "over the bridge, five blocks east, and down a dirt road that is barely a street". You were both still running when you ran over the bridge, eager to get to your relationship's safe haven. It was only when you reached said bridge that you slowed to a normal walk. 

You hugged Joe's arm, laughing and panting as you crept around the neighborhood "It's such a perfect night- I'm so glad we planned a date tonight."

"Yeah, couldnt've asked for anything better," he grinned up at the stars, "We made an easy getaway, too."

"Not often we get nights like these. Remember the night you were in my room and Phil almost came in?"

Joe cackled up at the sky, recalling, "Ah- yeah, can never forget that one. We barely got away with that one. How did he not hear me talking?"

"I have no idea, but I've never hidden someone that fast in my life- let alone someone as big or as naked as you were."

"Oi!" he whined, "You want a date or not?"

You giggled and rested your head against his arm, "I'll behave, I swear."

"Good, cos' the fun hasn't even started yet," he warned, tenderly putting his other hand on your arm. In a few minutes, the dirt road was in sight, looking like a familiar and secret setting of a dream. At the end of the street, the glowing lights of the secluded pub were now visible.

"I'll race you," you smirked before bolting away from Joe and down the street.

Instantly, he bolted after you, "Hey!"

He caught up quickly (his long legs being an advantage), and stopped you by gripping the back of your shirt. He did his best to take you in his arms, but tripped in the process, sending you both down to the dirt at an angle. You both hit the ground laughing, rolling onto your backs and cackling up to the summer stars.

"Sorry-" Joe huffed. You both paused for a second or two, then he rolled over to quickly straddle and pin you to the ground. 

"What are you doing?" you laughed at him, as if you didn't already know. He stroked your hair back with a loving smile, leaning down and softly kissing you. He was tender for only that second before kissing his way down to your neck, making you squirm underneath him.

"Ah- Joe!" you squealed, your face flushing up, "Cut it out! We're outside-!"

"Oi!" a different voice sounded off not so far away. You both turned your heads to see the owner of the pub standing out on the front porch, sending a parental scowl at the pair of you.

"Adrian- he's mad, I tell you!" you adopted a fake tone of helplessness.

"She started it," Joe blamed with a smirk.

"You two again, huh?" Adrian scolded you, "I'll be having no filthy business at the porch of my pub, you hear? Save it for the pool room."

"Yes, dad," Joe whined, shooting a cranky scowl down at you, rolling off and helping you up. You hit him on the arm playfully, him flinching at first, then putting his arm back around you. You both faced Adrian and began to walk up to the porch.

"I haven't seen the pair of you for almost 2 weeks, what's happened with ya?" he asked.

You answered, "Ah, studio troubles."

"And you're still keepin' this a secret, I take it?"

"It's the way we like it! It's more fun that way," Joe told him, " 'Our little secret' keeps the adrenaline going. Is the jukebox working again?"

"Been working since last week," Adrian's eyes followed you both as you edged closer, "Got 6 new singles on it now."

Joe's eyes lit up, "Oh, brilliant, which ones?"

"Ah, I can't remember, you'll see them soon anyway."

You got to the porch, Adrian holding the door open for both of you. With your date a threshold away, you stopped and asked him quietly with an air of implication, "Oh, also... when will the pool room be open?"

You looked at Joe with a devious smile. He returned it to you, beaming with similar energy.

"I can have everyone out of there by midnight if that's what you want, darling," Adrian gave a single nod, a glint of understanding in his eyes.

"No need to rush it, mate," Joe clapped a hand on his shoulder, "Take your time. We've got all night, after all."

"Well I've only got until 2:30," he warned, "So I'll let you kids know as soon as I can."

"You're the best," you leaned up and kissed Adrian's cheek, "Thanks for everything, as always."

"Don't mention it, love. You two be careful, now."

Both you and Joe droned as you walked inside, "We know."

With that, you both disappeared into the warmly lit building, feeling the summer heat as well as the heat of each other. It was always a dream come true with Joe no matter what; a dream with no one else to flaunt it at except each other, and it was more than enough. 

Your own little secret world was just between the two of you, and that was the way you liked it best. That was all either of you really needed, anyway; each other.

The end

[alj4890]

Picture Prompt Request

(Matt Rodriguez x Addison Sinclaire) with the picture prompt

As requested by @krsnlove

Matt x Addison in a Choices Red Carpet Diaries drabble

A/N My bff took my picture prompt and quickly wrote something amazing. Gotta return the favor. Going back to book 2 of RCD when Matt had his accident for this one. Not quite sure why I thought of this with the picture. And forgive me if I mess up the Spanish terms. I took French in High School and college. So...hello Google translate 😂

Masterlist

Mi cielito means "my little sky" and is an endearment usually used by grandparents according to my research.

Song: All I Have to Do Is Dream

Dreaming

It stopped. How strange. First there was the sensation of falling. Then agony. Not one part of my body was without pain. Then blessed unconsciousness. But then someone brought me to just to ask me questions. Broken English with a heavy Russian accent isn't the easiest to comprehend when every single nerve in your body is screaming. I think they mentioned a surgery about to happen. Now I have peaceful nothingness.

Matt decided this void was just what he needed. He might never leave. It was certainly better than the alternative.

"¿Mi cielito?" A soft, sweet voice drifted through the darkness.

Matt turned toward the sound he immediately recognized. It couldn't be. His precious abuela had died nearly fifteen years ago.

"It is you." A woman with silver streaked black hair approached him. A warm light followed her, chasing away the blackness surrounding him. "My handsome Mateo."

Matt shaded his eyes. "Ita?" He whispered the endearment in disbelief.

The short lady stopped a few feet from him and held her arms out. Her beautiful smile that he had inheirted formed. He blinked back tears and ran to embrace her.

"Mi cielito!" She exclaimed again, cupping his face between her hands. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not sure." He looked around now seeing what looked like a courtyard of some sort they were standing in. A fountain gurgled nearby. "Where are we?"

She studied their surroundings. "It looks like my old home." She spun around, laughing. "Mateo, we are where I grew up!" Her rich, brown eyes met his. "Remember when I took you to San Felipe when you were eight years old?"

He nodded. "I do. Dad had to film a movie and you decided we should go on an adventure."

She beamed at him. Her brow slowly crinkled in thought the longer they looked around. "Why are we here?"

"I don't know." Matt rubbed his forehead as he searched his memories. "The last thing I can remember clearly is falling."

"¡¿Qué?!" She gently touched his face and then his arms. "Where are you hurt?"

He chuckled at her fussing over him. "Ita, I think from the height I fell, that I am hurt pretty much everywhere."

She shook her head as tears formed. "You shouldn't be here." She chewed on her lip while plucking at the bottom of her blouse. "Muy joven."

Matt took her hand and led her to sit with him at the fountain. "Ita, I'm sure the doctors are doing all they can."

She hmphed. "Then perhaps you are here for something else." She seemed to cheer at that thought. "Tell me, mi cielito, what is your life like?"

He grinned and explained his film career and friends.

She waved her hand impatiently. "No, no, no! Am I a bisabuela?"

"Ita!" He shook his head. "I haven't settled down yet."

"¿Que es esto? My grandson hasn't married yet?" She nearly screeched. She grasped his chin and turned his face to the left and right. "Impossible. You should have women falling over themselves to marry you."

He couldn't stop smiling at her. "I haven't married because I haven't found the right person."

She tilted her head in that disconcerting way that always made him think she could read his thoughts. "You have, mi precioso niño."

"Ita." He sighed. "She doesn't think of me like that."

"Did you ask her?" She asked.

He shook his head.

She exaggerated a groan and muttered a few insults in Spanish before facing him. She didn't bother to hide her frustration. "My grandson does not let chances go by." She stated firmly. "Now show me this woman."

His brow furrowed. "How?"

She tapped his forehead. "There used to something in there."

He snorted with laughter. "Alright, Ita. Her name is Addison." He closed his eyes while a smile formed. "She has long, golden hair. A pair of the most striking blue eyes I have ever seen. Her smile is warm and enchanting. She is even sweeter than she looks, and--"

"Oh." Ita's whisper of surprise made him open his eyes.

Matt's eyes widened at Addison standing before them. She was wearing a ballgown of shimmery gold that only highlighted her tanned skin, sunstreaked hair, and eyes that he usually found himself lost in.

Addison looked down at herself. "I love my dress you picked for me." She did a few twirls, smiling at the sparkly effect it had with the setting sunlight shining upon it.

Matt's grandmother noticed the darkening sky and attempted to keep her tears from falling. "Our time grows short, Mateo." She pulled him up and led him to Addison. "You must tell her what is in here." She pressed her hand against his chest.

Matt noticed he was in a tux. "Where did--"

She shushed him. "My doing." She smiled at him. "Now, let me see you dance with her as you would during your wedding."

"Ita--"

"¡Espere!" She held a golden tiara in her hands. "Your bride must wear my grandmother's bridal crown." She placed it on Addison's bent head and stepped back to study her. "Perfecta."

"There's no music, Ita." Matt reminded her. "How am I supposed to--"

A melody seemed to come from the very stars that were beginning to appear in the sky. His grandmother would choose The Everly Brothers' song, All I Have to Do Is Dream. He could remember catching her dancing to it with his grandfather in the kitchen.

And the song did seem quite appropriate under the circumstances.

He gazed down at the vision of Addison and smiled.

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips while they slow danced.

He held her close as the sky darkened. He glanced at his grandmother and saw her with an expression of pure joy on her face. As the shadows fell across the courtyard, she blew him a kiss.

"Remember to tell her, mi cielito." She said while disappearing.

Addison pressed another kiss to his lips, making them tingle. "Please wake up, Matt." She whispered. Her hand gently cupped his cheek. "I can't stand the thought of this world without you."

Matt leaned in closer to her touch, amazed how real it felt. "Can't we stay here?" He asked, cuddling her closer.

She shook her head, tears forming. "Come back to me. I have so much to tell you." She tilted her head as if listening to the song. "I need you so, that I could die. I love so."

"Addison!" He tried to hold onto her as she began to recede into the darkness. "I love you. I need you to know that."

"Open your eyes." She begged from far away.

He began to feel smothered by the darkness. That initial comfort had disappeared along with his love.

He blinked and felt the rush of pain hit him. He took a deep breath, regretting it immediately when his cracked ribs reminded him they were there. He looked about the stark hospital room and finally saw the blonde head bowed next to his bed.

"Please come back to me." Addison pleaded softly. "I should have told you I loved you but I thought you were in love with Jessica." She sniffed and covered her face. "I can't lose you, Matt."

He tried to move his hand and grimaced at the effort it took to do so. He finally felt her silky hair.

Addison looked up. Her eyes were puffy from all her crying and she had dark circles under them. He wondered how long she had remained by his bedside, how long he had been unconscious.

"Matt?" She whispered.

"Addison." He croaked. He grimaced at that raw sensation in his throat.

She began to make half gasp/half sob noises as she realized that he was truly awake. "Oh Matt!" She took his hand and pressed her lips to it. "I've been so--the call--and Jessica said--" she began to cry harder.

Matt wished he could put his arms around her and comfort her.

She suddenly surged forward and kissed his lips. That familar tingle he felt when in the courtyard sparked against his skin. She backed away and lifted vulnerable eyes to his.

"I love you, Addison." Matt whispered. "So much."

She kissed him again, trying to stop her tears of joy when he deepened the kiss.

She cupped his cheek while whispering her own love for him.

Matt closed his eyes for a moment when Addison left to let the nurse know he was awake. Thank you, Ita, he whispered

When he opened them, he could have sworn he heard his abuela say, "Cásate con Addison y dame un bisnieto. Muchos bisnietos."